


We're Not Human At All

by heatofthetuesdaymoments



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:23:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatofthetuesdaymoments/pseuds/heatofthetuesdaymoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even before it happened, Mara Hunter was always on her own. Now one year in the midst of what she imagines is the end of days, Mara fight's her way from Florida into the middle of Georgia, finding herself encountered with a strange but trustworthy group of survivors, and faces she never thought see would again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trees

**Author's Note:**

> This story revolves around Mara but loosely ties in with the walking dead characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is my first story on here. I'm not entirely sure where i'm going with this but thank for reading.

_It's my own fault._ _It's not my fault._

 _I'm not human at all._ _I have no heart._

_We're not human at all. We have no heart._

_~_

Days begin to blend, Mara can't remember the last time she looked at a clock or a calendar, the wrist watch she has on her left wrist not only serves at momentum from a life no one no longer remembers. 

One Mara is slowly starting to forget.

It must be early morning which means, less walkers will be around but still around to do some damage. Mara feels kind of sorry for them, these people thought they would live long lives, talking to the grand babies about all the adventures they went on when they were younger, writing wills and fixing up documents to make sure that should anything happen to them, their families would be compensated.

They never in their wildest dreams, wished to be a walking corpse, decaying day after day, never being laid to rest or been given the chance for a proper burial.

Instead their lives ended at the end of Mara's blades, which she was now cleaning, up in one of the many trees the state of Georgia. 

At the age of twenty-one, Mara Hunter had over one hundred and fifty kills under her belt. Being on your own as Mara was, always had it's challenge but in the end she never had to look back to make sure someone was keeping up, she could just run, find safety in a tree, or an abandoned house and keep quiet until they pass on through, if a herd was coming, Mara usually would climb to the top of a tree using two of her many knives, masking her scent with mud or something that smelled strongly of the forest and not human, either way Mara always had an escape plan should danger approach.

Right now, under her tree, three walkers were feasting on a kill Mara had made the day before. They appeared to be two females and a male and strangely enough, no other walkers had ventured past. But still, Mara lay in wait, quiet, alert, her pulse calm, her breathing steady.

She liked this spot, it was her favourite tree to sleep in. She should have dragged the poor deer somewhere else after she had eaten it but her muscles barely made the climb up the tree before she passed out of exhaustion.

She would just have to claim what was rightfully hers. It may just be a tree, but it was hers, and at night she could look up into the night sky and see a blanket of stars through the leaves. It was a place of peace and that was something Mara rarely had.

Mara quietly makes her decent from the tree, her human scent should blow her cover but the walkers are so preoccupied in devouring the carcass of a deer and are paying no mind to living flesh, not but a few feet above them.

In a flash, two walkers fall into the bloody guts of the creature, Mara's Bowie knives delved deep inside their craniums, whatever sparks of life brought them back is now diminished.

The last of the trio lunges for Mara's arm but can't bite down thanks to leather arm bracers she picked up in a town that had an over priced costume store a few months back. Mara pulls the knife from the walkers head, and strikes the last walker's head with so much force that she manages to split it wide open, flesh barely hanging on to the skull of the deceased.

∆∆∆

Mara waits four more hours in that tree, or what she assumes is four more since the sun is now high in the sky. As she makes her decent down the tree one more time, she carves the triangles at the base with a number indicating that she has slept here and when she slept here. 

She guts the walkers and smears the blood on her face, her clothes and the base of the tree. Making sure she leaves no scent of herself.

Once she's done she examines her handy work and wipes off the blood and flesh from her knives. She grabs her backpack, and evaluates her morning and considers the kills a good way to start the day.

"Good things may come your way Mar." She tells herself as she ventures through the woods, hopefully heading toward the next main road, or a shack or another tree to sleep in.

In truth, "good things" use to mean some beacon of hope that whatever this is would be ending soon, but now Mara could really go for a shower instead.


	2. Movement

_Run from the one who comes to find you._

_~_

Walkers, a herd, more than a herd, a community of walkers are below. Mara found the tallest tree she could find and climbed hard and fast until she got to the very stop. Up here it was quiet and a little chilly, down below however was a different story.

It was a dumb move on Mara's part really.

On her journey to find another road, since it had been six days since she saw one, she was growing tired and hungry, the hunger she could handle, mostly she just needed water, the last of her supplies had run out two days ago, her throat felt raw and dry, as if she had been eating sand. Just as she was about to curse herself for the hundredth time for being lost, her boot sinks into a creek, not a very wide creek but deep enough to go to her ankles.

She grabs for her backpack, desperately reaching for the water canteen she has, and bends down to scoop some in, and then brings it to her dry chapped lips, finally quenching her thirst. She puts the canteen back into the creek and fills it to the top. 

She prays she'll find the road soon, perhaps it'll lead her into a town. She could scavenge for some supplies, maybe some lip balm. Seems strange and pointless to want to have nice smooth lips but it's always comforted Mara to know that she's still alive, she can choose to have chapped lips or not if she wanted to.

As she packs up her canteen again, she travels with the creek, following the direction the current is going. As she gets further and further into the forest, she hears something she hasn't heard in a long time and stops.

The sound of water, insects buzzing. 

For some reason, apart from the few doe, squirrels, and feral cats she's encountered, everything else seemed to go quiet. As if, somehow nature shut down and was now hibernating, waiting for things to pass.

As she ventures on, the sound of running water gets louder, at this point Mara is practically sprinting toward the sound. Maybe if she finds a tree tall enough she'll be able to make a little cot, and live off the water.

And that's exactly what she finds when she does. A small lake, in circled by trees and a giant cliff. It's secluded, it's peaceful, and it's all Mara's for the taking.

∆∆∆

Of course, finding a tranquil spot in these times does not last for long. Mara knew that a few walkers would eventually show up but she never expected a giant herd like this to. 

It probably wasn't the best idea to take a bath in the lake, because now Mara is fully exposed and this herd just doesn't seem to be going no where.

A few linger near the tree she's in, actually sniffing the air, gnarling, their dead eyes looking up but Mara has the advantage of not being seen thanks to the trees' thick and high branches.

Mara's scent however, is fully noticeable.

All she wanted was to feel clean again. And now she was going to have to get dirty.

Mara knows there's no point in waiting then out, more will come, they'll start to each other and then they'll become dormant. 

Mara reaches up to grab a smaller branch and begins to cut it at its base. It's long and moveable and won't break on impact. It's exactly what she needs to make a spear.

∆∆∆

 Five hours later and Mara is pretty sure that this is the stupidest, well one of the stupidest things she's ever pulled. 

For one she wasn't sure if this plan is going to work and two she is certainly out of any other options. So here she is, with a handmade spear, slowly making her decent down the tree, just enough for a few walkers to notice but not dangerous enough for her to be too alarmed. 

About five of the walkers notice her presence and begin clawing at the tree. The closest to her is the one she kills first. The spear makes a tiny splat sound, like dropping an egg on the floor, Mara than twists the spear still inside the skull and begins to pull the spear back with the walkers body still attached.

Of course the mid section of the walker begins to tear. Splitting off and dropping to the ground for the walkers to devour. Mara tries not to barf as the stench of the undead gets closer to her body.

The few walkers that still linger near the tree, soon lose interest in her and join the others who are feasting on the bottom half of the carcass. Mara sees a walker, tear through another walkers body and begin consuming it's flesh.

Mara, wraps a handkerchief around her mouth, she grabs one of her many knives and begins gutting the walker, its entrails spilling out, droplets of black blood land on Mara's body. When she's good and ready, Mara digs her hand into the belly of the beast and grabs decaying flesh and blood and begins smearing it all over her body. Mara leaves her face for last, praying that she first double over in her tree and vomit, but it also might help the process.

∆∆∆

It's nighttime when Mara droids down from the tree. With a soft  _thud_ Mara stands up straight, she looks to her right and sees the walkers legs, picked to the bone by the other walkers. Mara doesn't understand why flesh fuels them but it does and it's not just living people that get those fuckers going, she's seen a group of them take down a cattle, hell even seen some eating the flesh off one of their own.

But that's to be expected from dead things.

 A knife in each hand, now covered in the blood and guts of someone who used to be human, she slowly weaves in between walkers. If she moves too fast they'll sense that she's human and will lunge after her. A female walker comes up from behind, sniffs her a bit and then staggers away. 

Mara wonders why all these walkers are here, why is this particular spot so packed. 

Of course that thought only last for a millisecond.

Somewhere ahead Mara can hear a vehicle, and men, they sound like military.

"Gentlemen, search the premises, take what we need and nothing else!" A man with a southern drawl yells. 

_'Shit,'_ Mara thinks to herself, she looks around frantically in search of a tree she can climb, she soon regrets it because her fast movements give away her presence and she is just able to react in time before a walker lunges toward her. She drives her knife straight through the walker's eye socket, and pulls it out nosily as the walker falls to the ground.

"Gents we got some trouble markers over here fixing to get punished!" Hollers the same southern drawl.

Mara narrowly dodges two more walkers as they stop lunging for her and going straight for the male voice, it gives Mara just a second to reach a tree, big enough for her to hide behind and soon gun fire ensues. A few hit the tree but nothing goes through the bark, one of the people in this group obviously has an AK.

"Halt! We've got a breather!" Yes the same voice, he must be someone of high rank, maybe he's their leader.

A part of her, a part that still clings to humanity, to the thought that this dismal place will come to an end and that everyone can have their starbucks, morning traffic, domestic lives back, tells her to come out from behind the tree, that these men might help her, give her food, a place to sleep for the night, maybe she could become part of their crew.

Another part of her, the side that's kept her alive for who knows how long since this whole shitstorm happened, tells her to hide, and if one gets to close, cut them in the shin and use them as a bodyguard in case that one person starts to shoot again.

"Behind the tree!" The person hollers.

Mara stops dead in her tracks.

"If you come out nice and slow, hands in the air... no one has to get hurt." He says.

A few men chuckle.

Mara stands up, pressed against the tree, knives in her hand, her .99mm in its holster, she quietly takes the safety off.

_'This is it,'_ Mara thinks to herself, _'fight or flight as dad use to say,'_ she's ready, she's been ready today is the day she dies so be it.

"Boo." Says someone right behind.

She only has a moments notice to see an older man, maybe in his early fifties, with a crooked smile and a blade for a hand, hit her over the head with his Smith & Weston before everything begins to fade. The last image she sees isn't of the trees or the sky, but of a little girl probably eleven or twelve smiling at her and then screaming.


	3. Don't Look Back

_Why don't you tell me what's going on?_

_Why don't you tell me who's on the phone?_

_Why don't you ask him what's going on?_

_Why don't you ask him who's the latest on his throne?  
_

_~_

_"Looks like someone's finally waking up."_

Mara winces as she slowly opens her eyes, the bright light beaming down on her is too intense, her head is throbbing from the hit she took earlier. She mentally curses herself for not having a thicker skull, or for not fully paying attention to her surrounding back in the forest.

"You thirsty?" Asks the person with the southern drawl, the same one that hit her over the head not too long ago.

Cold liquid touches her lips, but she jerks away from the glass.

"Shit, you sure are stubborn." He says.

Mara's eyes finally adjust, she can now register how fucked her situation is.

She knows she's underground. The ceiling is low and it smells like dirt in here. She knows this must be in some town nearby. She knows that her hands and feet are presently tied to the chair. She's aware that the man sitting across from her is her captor, and he's just offered her water, which she refused.

Yeah she knows just how fucked the situation is.

"What's your name?" He asks.

Mara stares at his giant blade for a hand, like a modern day Captain Hook minus the hook part. He's not cool enough to be Blade.

He notices and chuckles to himself, "Don't worry about this thing, I only use it on the fucktards outside." He says.

Mara stays silent.

The man smiles, "My name is Merle, Merle Dixon." He says, as if they're sitting down at the diner having coffee or at an AA Meeting, which she's sure he's been to a couple of times. He gets up from his seat and walks toward the back, behind Mara. It sets Mara on edge and in high alert.

"Look I don't know what you want but I've got nothing." Mara finally says.

"Relax cupcake." Merle says.

"Where am I? Why am I here?" She asks him.

The hair on the back of Mara's neck rises, she can feel Merle right behind her, "I said relax," He says, giving her shoulder a squeeze with his one hand, "this'll be over quick."

Mara holds her breath and shuts her eyes, just as she braces herself for impact, nothing happens except the ties on her wrists have been cut and Merle is now in front of her cutting the rope from her legs.

When Merle stands up to admire his job, only then does Mara realize that she's been let go.

Mara holds her wrists close to her chest, "I- I don't fucking understand." Mara mumbles.

"We had to make sure you weren't infected or a cannibal, had some trouble with those freaks in the past, nasty business." Merle says.

Mara stares at him wide-eyed, but says nothing.

Merle goes to a table not far from where they are and picks up what looks to be her bag. He brings it back to her and places it gently in her lap.

"You've got quite the collection of knives in there missy, my brother would like you." He says, flashing her that crooked smile again.

"You're letting me go?" She asks him.

Merle shrugs, "More or less, you're going to have to talk the man in charge-"

"You're not in charge?" She asks him.

Merle laughs, "You think a drunk like me can run a town as big as this?" He asks, laughing again.

"We call him The Governor, hes the one in charge and he'll give you the grand tour." Merle adds.

"Then why keep me down here?" She asks him.

"It's a safety precaution." Says a voice from the back.

Both Mara and Merle turn their heads to the door. A tall, handsome, older man, with a nice smile walks up to both of. He nods at Merle who nods back before leaving the two in the room.

"You're the  _Governor_?" She asks him.

He smiles and his teeth are just as nice as the rest of him is. Mara can't help but think of what her grandmother use to say about people like him.

_"Satan in a Sunday hat darling, Satan in a Sunday hat."_

"I am, and what's your name?" He asks her.

"Mara." She says.

"You got a last name Mara?" He asks her.

"Nope, just Mara." She replies.

"Well wouldn't be the first name I'd name my kid, but it seems to suit you." The Governor says, flashing her that smile of his again.

Mara squirms in her seat, "Why am I here?" She asks him.

"Like I said, it's a safety precaution," The Governor says, "we don't know who you are, we don't know if you pose a threat, I have to think about my community."

Mara remains silent, gently rubbing her wrists, she looks around the room then down to her backpack and finally back to The Governor.

"So I'm free to go?" She asks him.

The Governor shrugs, "If that is what you wish, then yes, you're free to go." He replies.

Mara grabs her bag and slowly stands up.

"But before you do how about a nice warm meal, perhaps a shower, we even have rooms if you're tired." The Governor suggests.

Mara bites her lip. The side that still wants to see the good in people is tell her to just give it a try even if it's for the night, but the other part, the one that's been keeping her alive is telling to just go, refuse (politely of course) but to just go.

"I'll give it a try, but I need to go." Mara says.

"Go where?" He asks her.

"To... to anywhere." She says, before heading toward the door.

Merle is on the outside and opens it for her.

Mara gives Merle a small nod and walks past him.

"Do you have any idea how to get out of here?" He asks her.

Mara stops walking and turns around, "No, no I don't." She says through clenched teeth.

The Governor and Merle seem to exchange some words but it's too quiet for Mara to hear, Merle nods and The Governor pats him on the shoulder before walking the opposite direction of Mara and Merle.

"It was nice meeting you Mara." Says The Governor over his shoulder.

Merle walks up to  Mara, "C'mon darling I'll show you the ropes." He says smiling down at her.

Mara follows Merle, two feet behind him to be exact just to keep her distance. They make their way through a zig zag of tunnels, but Mara still remembers how they got there. She had always been good with directions, something her boyfriend was really bad at and would always tell her how lucky he was she was so smart. She sighs, thinking of the days before everything went to shit. They had a picnic in a remote grassy area, the Florida weather wasn't too humid, and there was a nice light breeze. It was perfect. It was everything she imagined a perfect date would be, but those days were over and she never saw him after that day. She went to his house but it was empty, even the pets were gone. She was so crushed that he had just left her like that, especially after everything she had been through...

"Whose Hannah?" Merle finally asks her.

Mara almost trips over nothing, "What?" She asks, trying to play it cool.

"After I regrettably knocked you out, you kept mumbling her name, who is she?" He asks her.

Mara feels a giant lump in her throat. Her eyes begin to water.  _'No he can't see you cry, in prison if you cry it's a sign of weakness same thing applies to this situation hold your shit together.'_ Mara clears her throat, "She's my sister." She finally replies.

"Oh." Merle says, turning his attention back to the tunnel.

It's about five minutes or so of silence before he speaks again.

"She's dead isn't she." He says.

"Yes." Mara says, her voice soft and quiet.

Merle looks back at Mara one more time, "I'm sorry I asked." He says.

Mara shrugs, clutching her bag to her chest, "Don't be, it's not like you knew in the first place." She says.

They walk in silence for the remainder of the trip upstairs. Mara was correct in believing that they were underground.  As they walk up the basement stairs, they enter, to her disbelief not some type of government facility, but a giant kitchen. One that looks like it belongs in one of those old southern plantation homes. But it's covered with medical supplies and bloody gauze, and men in flannel or hunting vests with rifles and crossbows strapped across their chest. A few look up from what they're doing as Mara passes but quickly dismiss the girl that is following Merle and continue to go about their business.

"It's strange isn't it?" Merle asks her.

"I don't know what you mean." Mara answers truthfully, tightening her grip on her bag.

"Seeing all these folks act like... well people." Merle comments and then chuckles to himself.

"Believe me I almost shit a brick when I first got here, couldn't believe my eyes." He says.

They zigzag through a wooden paneled hallway to what looks like to be living room, also occupied with more men and a few women dressed in the same type of uniform of flannel and hunting vests.

"Where are we exactly?" She asks him one more time.

"Woodbury." Merle replies, this time not looking back to her as they head to the entrance, which is a white, wooden double-door.

"Well, welcome to Woodbury." Merle says, spreading his arms out as if he was some host on a game show.

Mara looks around, scanning the area. It's quaint and quiet, something that Mara is by no means use to anymore. It looks like it has not been effected by the outbreak or whatever this thing is. However looking closer at the people's attire, she notices that under sundresses and overalls are pocket knives and .10 mm, rifles and machetes. It's an odd mixture of southern comfort and militia. 

"This is where you'll be staying." Merle says, bringing her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

Mara is facing a large, brick building. A weathered, wooden sign with 'Woodbury Inn' carved in slightly swings back and forth above her. She looks from Merle to the wooden door and heads in.

"Home, sweet home." Mara mumbles under her breath as she walks into the inn.

△△△

Two weeks.

Two weeks was all it took for Mara to realize that this  _community_ called Woodsbury is in fact complete horseshit.

Mara knew from the beginning that this was more than a camp, but it wasn't until new "patients" were brought into the hospital ward that she realized just how Woodbury had managed to survive this whole time.

Mara had asked that very same night if she could work around the community, she didn't want to "just sit on her ass" as she had put it in words, which made Merle laugh.

_"The hospital ward could use extra help, sometimes we get people who are bitten and well... it's a mercy killing."_

So that is what Mara was doing now. 

Thankfully that only happened once, but that night was also the night the new "patients" came in. She didn't understand why she felt uneasy until she noticed that the nurses in the ward were only doing the minimum care for the patient despite the fact that some of the patient's injuries were near fatal. Her interest wasn't peeked until The Governor appeared into the room. She was busy tending the patient's wound. He was a young man around his late twenties, dressed in cameo pants and a vest with a dark blue button up shirt. The vest and shirt were stained with his blood, and stench from his wounds were so powerful, it made Mara a bit light-headed.

"Please..." Mara turns her attention from the cleaning the wound to the man's face.

One eye is barely open, the other one remains swollen shut. Her stomach does a flip, they still have not discussed what went down before these people were brought it. She looks toward The Governor and the nurse, who are too busy talking in hushed voices to notice that the patient is now conscious. 

"Please... kill me." He whispers.

"What." Mara says under her breath.

"Do not... let him talk... to me... please kill... me." He pleas, his breathing is heavy, wheezing, considering that he has a puncture wound in his right lung.

Mara rests a shaky hand on his, "H-how?" She asks.

It's strange for her or it use to be, here she was asking how she could kill a man when instead she should have been asking why.

"I don't know... please."

"Mara!" The Governor beams, walking cheerfully toward the girl.

Mara looks from the Governor back to the man, but he resumes his unconscious state. His eyes are closed, his breathing is heavy, sedated, still a faint sound of wheezing.

"Thank for taking care of him so tentatively." he says resting his hand gently on Mara's bare shoulder, it fills her with disgust and she all but wants to scratch at the spot where his hand once was, burning at the touch.

"It's what I'm here for." Mara responds, her gaze dead and unemotional.

"Unfortunately I do not think our patient here is going to last the night." He whispers, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.

Mara's brown eyes look up into the Governor's green ones, "What should I do then?" She asks him.

The Governor shrugs, "Talk to him if he wakes, just be here to make sure that when he passes-"

"I handle the situation." She says, finishing his sentence.

"That's my girl." He adds, a smile spreading across his face, but it only makes Mara wish she could wipe it away.

The nurse and the Governor leave Mara and the patient alone. The nurse could handle blood and gore, but killing was never in her job description. Mara's mother was as nurse, she had spent most of her childhood in the hospital that her mother worked out since no one could take care of Mara but her mother. When she was six, she had learned the valuable lesson of life or death.

Her mother was working in the burn unit at the time, which was on the third floor, but Mara's god mother Louise was on the first floor, she worked as a receptionist for the Radiology unit. Mara remembers two giant doors opening up and two men pushing in a giant black bag on top of a gurney. The sight confused and frightened Mara but she did not cry or ask for her mother to hold her. Mara had always been an observant and curious child, so instead of crying in confusion she would ask her mother thousands upon thousands of questions, that she's sure probably drove her mother up the wall.

△△△

_'What's that mommy?' She remember's her six year old self asking, pointing at the two gentlemen and their "package"._

_'That is a person sweetie.' Her mother replies as she swipes her key card causing the doors to the Radiology ward to open for them._

_Mara remembers tensing up. She remembers her mother kneeling on the floor to be face-to-face with Mara, and gently rubbing her small arms in comfort._

_'Hey it's okay Mar, the people in the bags they're not scary, they're not even them anymore,' she says, trying to explain to her six year old how death works without frightening her, 'when people in the hospital die, they get taken downstairs and we take care of them until their families can pick them up.'_

_'Why?' Mara asks quietly._

_Her mother sighs, 'Because everyone dies, and no one knows when but it happens, in the hospital we try and make that as peaceful as possible, sometimes the people who die don't have families so we take them and put them in a room where they're safe.'_

_Mara scans the title floor, it's a cream color, that matches the beige walls, everything in the hospital was so colorless to her._

_'I don't wanna die.' She mumbles._

_She remembers her mother chuckling softly, 'Oh sweet girl, everyone dies but usually when they're really, really, super old, older than grandma.'_

_'Really?' Mara asks, her eyes going wide, thinking about her grandmother's wrinkled face, wondering how anyone could be older than her, it just seemed impossible._

_'Yes, but you're so young and you have so much to do before that happens, I promise,' Her mother says, planting a kiss on the girl's temple, 'never be afraid of death Mara, it's just another journey that we all have to take one day.'_

△△△

Now Mara sits here in the this room, Bowie knife in one hand, the other one resting near the patient in this bed.

"Are we alone?" He asks, his voice raspy, smelling metallic due to the blood.

Mara nods, "What happened to you guys?" She asks him, it comes out as a faint whisper.

"We... we were ambushed." He says, his wheezing picking up again the more he speaks.

Mara clenches her free hand into a fist, she inhales and exhales deeply, "Why, who did this?" She asks him.

The man is about to answer when Mara rests her hand on his arm causing him to pause. They hear faint footsteps shuffling closer. Mara's eyes cast down to the doorway, checking to see if anyone is leaning against the door trying to listen in. Thankfully the feet pass by the door and continue until she cannot hear them no more. She turns her attention back the patient who watches her with one eye.

"You- your people." He says, coughing up blood in the process.

Mara wipes some away from his mouth with a clean tissue and discards it in their bio-hazardous bin, it's bright, neon orange container bringing color into the dim and dull room.

"You mean the guy who was just here?" She asks in a whisper.

The patient nods, "I didn't see his face, but... but his voice... sounds the same."

"Sonofabitch." Mara mutters under her breath, she runs her free hand through her hair.

"You believe... me?" He asks her.

Mara nods in silence.

"Please, kill me... he tried, he tried to get information... about my people." He hisses, clutching on to her hand.

"Why did he attack you?" She asks him.

"We... we had supplies, we just came back... from a run." He says, his wheezing getting harder, causing him to cough more.

Mara bites her lip. She never killed anyone like this. Every time someone came in and they were bit, they would usually succumb to their wounds and die, causing them to turn and letting Mara fulfill her duty. This was different. He was alive and fully aware of that fact, yet here he was begging her to take his life.

"Do you want to die?" She asks him, it barely comes out as a whisper this time.

The patient squeezes her hand, "Please... I know... I'm dying, I don't... have much time."

Mara eyes the Bowie in her hand and then looks back at the patient, "What's your name?" She asks him.

"Steve." He replies.

"I'm Mara." She says, giving Steve's hand a reassuring squeeze.

He chuckles, "That's funny." He says.

"Why is that?" Mara asks, trying to smile too.

"I use to be... a college student... and I did biblical studies." He says, a faint smile appears on his face.

"Okay." 

"Mara was word... used by Naomi in... the bible after... the death of her husband... and sons," He says, trying not to cough, "it means... bitterness, or grief... from the death of a loved one."

Mara shakes her head, "Guess it's only fitting I do this then?" She asks rhetorically.

"Just make sure... you do it right... can't be... one of them damn... things." He says, chuckling softly.

Mara does't know she's crying until she feels a droplet land on her hand. She wipes her face with one of the tissues from the box near the bed.

"I'm sorry Steve." She says, trying to keep her voice from quivering.

"Don't be... it was nice... to see a beautiful face... in so much chaos." He says, squinting his eyes in pain as he coughs once again.

Mara laughs and tries not to choke on the sob that's desperate to escape. She had never felt so emotional before, but then again she never took a person's life before, not like this.

"Please... please make sure He... doesn't get... to my people... or the ones we met." He begs her.

"There's other people?" She asks him.

"They... they were heading toward a prison." He says, "one... one was pregnant... there's a whole group of them."

Mara's heart jumps. A group. With children, and they were surviving all on their own.

"Promise you... won't say anything." He begs.

Mara squeezes his hand, "I promise." She says.

Steve closes his eyes, ready for his passing. Mara tries to gather up all her strength. If this is what Steve wanted, who was she to deny him that?

_'It's just another journey that we all have to take one day.'_

She wants to do it, but she can't.

"Steve..." She cries out.

There's nothing but silence.

"... Steve?" She asks again, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

The room is eerily quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and Mara's breathing.

Steve remains motionless. Mara gingerly rests her blade as the base of his nostrils. It remains the same, no condensation covers the part of the blade near his nose.

Mara knows what she has to do now, but waits. It only counts if he turns.

Sure enough two minutes into this death, his hand twitches awkwardly. It's the first sign that he's changed. Next comes a small, animalistic moan that escapes through his mouth, and lastly are his eyes. His once dark blue eyes are now dull and cloudy. As he rises up, Mara plunges her Bowie knife into the his head, she can hear his skull crack as the knife digs deep into his scalp. As she pulls the handle out of his head, his body falls forward, falling completely off the bed and onto the floor. It remains motionless as she cleans her blade.

"I need help in here!" Mara hollers.

Two minutes later three able-bodied men come into the room, one of them has a black tarp with him. All remain silent as they look from Mara to the lifeless body on the floor. The giant gash on the top of his head, oozing out blood that begins to puddle around Mara's feet.

"Jesus fuck." One guy mutters under his breath as he walks by Mara. 

The three men lifts the body up and onto the tarp.

The Governor comes in a minute later, "You alright?" Asks her, trying to sound sincere but Mara doesn't buy.

"Fine." She says, putting her knife back into this carrier.

"Did he say anything to you?" He asks her as the men carry Steve's lifeless body away from the room.

"Yeah he did." She replies.

Something, a spark seems to flash behind the Governor's steely, green eyes, "What was it?" He asks, trying to play it cool.

"He said his name was Steve." Mara replies, keeping her distance from the Governor as much as possible, surveying the floor and making a mental note that she would definitely have to clean her boots before she went to bed today.

The Governor's jaw clenches a bit but he remains to smile at the short girl, "Anything else?" He asks her.

Mara shakes her, "No, that's all he said he mostly mumbled under his breath, something about my name and my face." She says.

The Governor scowls, his eyes look more hostile than they did before, "Well thank you for taking care of that, please clean up since we don't have enough people on staff." He orders, pointing to a mop and bucket that are resting near the closet of the room.

"Was he the only one that survived?" She asks him, knowing very well what the answer is.

"Sadly yes," The Governor says, "if you remember anything else, please let me know."

"Will do."

He closes the door as he leaves and Mara gets to mopping. The room is not as dirty as she had initially thought but getting blood off a wooden floor is still a bitch to take care of. Just a ten minutes ago, Mara was having a conversation with another human being, and now she was mopping up his blood. 

 _'Other people,'_ she thinks to herself,  _'there's other people out there and they've survived this long.'_

She hears a knock one door, "It's open." She hollers, rinsing the mop into the bucket and then continues to mop up the thick, syrupy liquid on the ground.

"Heard you needed help cleaning up." It's Merle, not to Mara's surprise, wherever the Governor is Merle has been sure to follow.

"Umm, I think I got it." Mara replies, taking the mop to the floor once again.

 "Governor said the patient talked to you?" Merle says, taking a seat on the bed.

Mara's nostrils flare, but she continues to mop facing her back toward Merle, "So what, you're here to see if I've been holding any information back?" She asks, throwing the mop down in the bucket with more force than was needed. 

Merle chuckles, "Boy you sure do remind me of my brother sometimes." He says crossing his arms, his blade is off right now. 

"Don't fucking change the subject Merle." Mara sighs, rinsing her hands, the mop and bucket into the sink.

Merle sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to ya, no point in doing so you sniff out bullshit like a bloodhound."

Mara shrugs her shoulders, indicating for Merle to continue with whatever he has to say.

"The Governor knows you don't trust him," Merle begins, "he knows that you and the patient  _talked_ for a bit before he well kicked the bucket."

"Yeah I asked him about his name and he asked me about his." Mara replies.

"And that's all you guys discussed?" Merle questions.

"He told me my name basically means bitter or grief from the death of the loved one, something like that." Mara says, drying her damp hands on one of the clean rags near here.

"Why did you ask him his name Mara?" Merle asks him, his tone softer this time.

Mara sighs, "He... he begged me to kill him."

"Why?"

"Because he fucking knew he was dying, he knew he was dying and didn't want to become like those walkers out there!" Mara snaps, her pitch going a bit high, it usually did this when she was upset about something.

"Di- Did you kill him before he turned?" Merle asks, urgency in his ice blue eyes.

"No... no I was going to... but then he just died, probably from his wounds and then I waited... and he turned." Mara says, running her hand down her face.

"I see."

"Are you done grilling me, can I finish cleaning up?" Mara asks, pointing to the bloody mess of the bed that Merle is currently sitting on.

"Yeah, yeah we'll talk later." Merle says, rising from his position on the bed.

As he walks past the short girl he places his rough, calloused hand on her shoulder. Mara doesn't flinch from it like she tries not to do from the Governor. Unlike the Governor, she trusts Merle, maybe because they both understand that no matter how much these people like to play house, than can quickly turn on each other.

"I care for you like a sister Mara," Merle says, "know that I will try to keep from trouble as much as I can."

Mara gives him a short, firm nod indicating that he understands. He gently squeezes her shoulder and leaves her to continue her business.

Mara goes to change the sheets on the bed. Maybe she should have told Merle about what Steve had said. Knowing Merle though, he'd probably tell the Governor and she promised she'd protect the people's secret.

As she dumps the bloody sheets in a bag, and gets knew ones out of the linen closet she begins to wonder is there hope?

She said she'd give this town a try. Her initial plan of action was to stay for a week at the most but now that plan seemed to had gone out the window. Apart from the Governor, she was sure she had the most weapons in her custody than most people in the town. If she needed to leave she could. Merle had shown her the weak points when she had been put on patrol one night since one of the people had fallen ill.

If she could get out she could go the people Steve mentioned. Not his people of course. He had kept their whereabouts secret, but the other group, the one with a baby, maybe they needed help. Mara had learned how to help with a home birth thanks to a cousin who didn't want to go the doctors to give birth. Her mother had been the cousin's wet nurse. It was gross but rewarding when she heard her new family members' scream. She wonders if those two are even alive, or if her mother is even alive.

The last time she talked to her mother, Mara's mom had said she was in Missouri tending the sick at the local hospital in some town near St. Louis. That was back when things started happening. She hasn't seen her mother since.

At first she looked for her, maybe Mara's mother went to look for her in Florida. As Mara made it up the coast, she realized that looking for someone now was near impossible. About three months into this new life, Mara gave up the hope of seeing anyone she knew again.

A knock at the door startles Mara out of her thoughts.

"You all done in here?" Asks one of the medics.

"Yeah, yeah I think I am." Mara says, tightening the grip on the bag that held bloody mess of sheets.

"Great because we find two more people and were gonna need this room." The medic days, ushering her out.

"More people?" Mara asks.

"Yeah found em issue the gate apparently, and you won't believe what one of them had." The medic says, nudging Mara.

"Look alive we got a woman here and she's very ill." The head nurse says, as the three men that carried Steve out, come in with a woman.

She's a tall, curvy, white blonde lady, she's soaked to the bone in her own sweat. No doubt suffering from a fever.

"What do you want us to do with the other one?"Asks Martinez and Shrumpet, two of the Governor's men.

In their grasps' is a tall, fit black woman. Her hair is in dreads and what appears to be a bandana. She looks to be in her early 30s. She has a scar on her right shoulder but it looks old, probably from something before the outbreak.

"We'll check her vitals, see if she's sick too." The nurse states, tending to the other woman.

"I'll do it." Mara pipes in.

The nurse shrugs, "Alright go ahead."

Mara takes the woman from Martinez and Schrumpete, and seats her on a worn, wooden chair. The woman has her gaze fixed on the men who are hovering at the doorway.

"Okay guys, I think we're good." Mara states looking at the two.

Martinez stares at the woman.

"Leave, now I can't get a good read on her pulse if you're here." Mara snaps.

The woman turns her gaze toward Mara. Martinez snorts, muttering a 'yeah whatever' and Schrumpet follows behind him. 

"Thank you." The woman says, her tone is cold, and unapologetic but Mara can tell she means it.

"Anytime, those guys are creeps." Mara replies.

"You gonna check me?" She asks, her voice barely a whisper. 

She trusts Mara which is good but didn't trust the rest of the people in the room, which is even better. Maybe Mara can leave with them.

Mara waves her hand "You're as fit as a fiddle, I just wanted them to stop holding you like that." 

"They took my sword." The woman mumbles.

"They do that, wanna keep the wolves at a disadvantage." Mara replies.

"Who are the wolves?" She asks Mara.

"Us," Mara replies, "we're the wolves."

"What's your name?" The woman asks.

"Mara, you?"

"Michonne, and that's Andrea." Michonne says, indicating to the woman on the bed.

"Michonne, it's nice to meet you.' Mara says.

So many questions are running through Mara's mind. The important ones being, are you part of another group and can I go with you.

"We'll see what we can do about sword of yours." Mara says.

Michonne looks from Andrea on the bed toward Mara.

"But I got to go with you." Mara adds.

Michonne sighs, "If you can get my pack and my sword, I'll consider it. "

"Deal." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. :)


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